


Minds Met With Steel

by ReaganJenelle



Category: Marco Polo (TV)
Genre: Cross-cultural, Crossdressing, F/M, Forced Marriage, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:50:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8085949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaganJenelle/pseuds/ReaganJenelle
Summary: "You are most correct, Lord Khan, the girl has a most clever mind and excellent perception. She is my daughter, and most dear to me. But if it pleases Your Greatness, you may take her as your Lady and servant."The Khan watched my father closely with narrowed eyes. "What do you wish in return?""The opportunity to pay tribute to my Khan along the Silk Road." Father spoke quickly.Disbelief colored with panic filled my voice. "Father, what are you doing?""Marcella, trust this. Be silent." He whispered from the corner of his mouth."I am your daughter." My voice rose slightly."Be silent.""You wish not the honor of service in the court of the Khan of Khans?" Head tilted slightly, the Khan took stock of me before turning to my father. "What greater tribute can a man offer than his own flesh and his own blood? You Latin merchants may engage along my Silk Road."





	1. Minds Meet Steel

Plague tore through our caravan without mercy. Three of the four priests that traveled with us perished along with nine others. It was by God's mercy that my father, my uncle, and I were spared. The black death burned through the land as we made our way to the great city of Cambaluc. Three years past before we saw the first sign of the magnificent city just past dancing grass lands. Soldiers both on horse and foot marched us closer to the walled city. Father walked close to me. It was a nice comfort that still took some getting use to. I suppose he, rather like me, still couldn't shake the image of corpses mounted on pikes. Three years of a plague that finally departed, and the sight of the dead still swam before my eyes. Perhaps it was less that death haunted me, and more the way death was dealt to the small village that I couldn't shake.

Upon entering the city, noise scrambled to be heard, smells tickled my nose, and people both selling wears and begging for coin swarmed around us with raised voices. Those astride horses kicked the men and woman aside without a second thought. How strange it was compared the order of Venice. The leather of my tunic was tugged on by passing children straining to look at me. Cambaluc had more life in it's breast than any other place I had seen in our travels so far. It was almost as if the plague had never knocked on it's door.

A towering gate manned with guards rose quickly before us. Those who had escorted us left us standing before the might of the doors. From within his cloak, father pulled the tablet gifted to him by the Khan, and showed it to a man whose eyes held us with suspicion. Turning from the tablet, the man yelled for the gates to open. Father put his hand on my shoulder as he led me into the court yard.

"Follow our lead and be silent before the Khan, Marcella." He looked down into my eyes, the green eyes, he once said, I had inherited from my mother. 

"Of course, father."

As we were led into the palace, I couldn't help but stair in awe at the magnificent beauty it held. Gold and silver ran through the wall as though they were great tears falling down a pale cheek. Jade swam through the marble and stone floors and swirled in glorious patterns. Great red and gold pillars stood erect. I had never seem anything more beautiful. We came to stand before gracefully carved doors that glided open. My father and uncle led the way inside before coming to their knees. Copying their example, we crawled before the Khan and his court. My cheeks reddened as eyes fell upon my form. Attention was not something I found pleasure in. Man and woman watched in silence as we made our way to the foot of their Khans throne. The woman wore tall headdresses with jewels and beads framing their round faces. My father and uncle stopped and touched their heads to the blue and white tiles. I clumsily followed their lead and payed respect to the man half shrouded sitting before us in a fur lined throne. My eyes paused on a man who could only be described as beautiful, He sat at the Khans feet, looking down at us with dark eyes. His pale skin was like porcelain beneath the ebony of his hair. His eyes met mine for a moment before I looked at my knees folded under me. Silence ensued as we waited. Only a moment passed.

"The Latins. Yes, I remember." The Khan's voice filled the hall. "But where are the Christian priests you were to bring, hmm?"

"Lord Kublai," My father hesitated. "please except our remorse. Our priests could not bear the rigors of the journey. But, we did bring you Holy Oil from-"

The Khan cut across him swiftly. "Your men of God retreat, but this woman advances. This says very little of your savior. Hmm?" Laughter bubbled from the court as my cheeks stained red.

"Loyalty of a mortal daughter to a mortal father, Great Khan." Placing his hand to his chest, father bowed his head in respect.

The Khan 'hmm'ed before turning his eyes to the oil in his hand. "Holy Oil from the pontiff who wishes to spread Christianity throughout my lands. Is this not the same Pope who has called me 'the Spawn of Satan'?" My heart pounded in my ears as fear spiked my blood. "I will say this, and you will listen. Christianity is welcome in my Kingdom. As is Buddhism...Judaism...Islam, and the Eternal Blue Sky of my grandfather, Genghis Khan, descended from a wolf." He held the oil up, and a servant ran to take it. 

A moment passed before the Khan motioned with two fingers to a servant, and the servant bid us to stand. Stumbling to my feet, I kept my eyes on the tile, afraid to meet the eye of any in this court. 

"So, tell your Pope that he himself must bow before me and pledge his fealty to me. As for you merchants," I looked up and noted that the Khan sat forward, looking down on us with a great intensity. "you crossed ocean and mountain, the great Takla Makan Desert. One not many men survive. Describe for me my desert, hmm?"

Father stumble to find what he needed to say. "It is a... most barren region, sire."

Uncle tried to aid him. "No water, no life, Lord Khan. Not even a bird."

"Not even a bird." Father nodded. "It is, Great Khan, a sea of death."

Displeasure colored the Khan's face at their answer. I was speaking before I could remember my fathers warning no to. "Yet very much alive." My father's and uncle's eyes sought my face. "At night you hear it. The shifting sands they... sing."

"Humble apologies, sire." Father spoke quickly. "She does not yet know the rules-"

Once again the Khan cut across him with a grunt. His eyes held new interest as they rested on my dirt stained face. "Continue."

I hesitate as my heart pumped fast and my mind raced through thoughts I had thought in the desert. The beautiful man watched my face while I watched the Khan's. "Voices, like spirits... trying to lure you off course. This is why men die out there. The Uighurs call it hileme lu sacre siolemac."

"You learn the tongue of the Uighurs?" The Khan asked.

I could feel the anticipation rolling off the men beside me as the listened. "Three years was not long enough to learn it all."

"Mongol?" He inquired.

"Bagakhan. Ene ni Italiin ilüü khetsüü." 

The Khan scoffed and looked to his wife. She sat straight and beautiful. A part of me began to worry over the state I must be in. When the Khan laughed, she turned her gaze on me. "Of all the lands a traveler passes through, which province contains, in your eye, the most beautiful woman of all?"

My mouth felt dry at their continued attention. "I find that all woman, no matter from which land, they are all beautiful in their own unique manner. In Italy we have a saying. La vera dolcezza del vino è un sapore. The true sweetness of wine is one flavor."

Laughter spreed through the hall at my words. I smiled slightly when the Khan joined.

"You have a clever mind. For a Latin." He turned his eyes to my father. "I made one request. It was not for oil. It was for priests. With this, you failed. Take your leave. Go Latins, you're banished forever."

Despair colored my uncles face. Regret colored mine as we made to bow and leave. 

 "You are most correct, Lord Khan, the girl has a most clever mind and excellent perception. She is my daughter, and most dear to me. But if it pleases Your Greatness, you may take her as your Lady and servant." A stillness settled over the room.

The Khan watched my father closely with narrowed eyes. "What do you wish in return?"

"The opportunity to pay tribute to my Khan along the Silk Road." Father spoke quickly.

Disbelief mingled with panic in my voice. "Father, what are you doing?"

"Marcella, trust this. Be silent." He whispered from the corner of his mouth.

"I am your daughter." My voice rose slightly. 

"Be silent."

"You wish not the honor of service in the court of the Khan of Khans?" Head tilted slightly, the Khan took stock of me before turning to my father. "What greater tribute can a man offer than his own flesh and his own blood? You Latin merchants may engage in trade along my Silk Road. Ahmad, my Minister of Finance will discuss taxation and transit. Take your leave."

My father and uncle bowed to the Khan as the began to back away. "Marcella, you have to trust me."

Reality began to cage me. "Father-"

"This will not be forever."

I made to go after then. "Don't do this." Two guards grabbed my arms. I thrashed against them.

"We will secure the trade routes and be back for you." The doors opened behind them as they stepped through.

Throwing my body against the one of the men who held me, I could feel panic wash over my head. "Father! Don't leave me here!"

The doors closed, and my fight stilled. I had been given away by my father to people in a strange land. I didn't struggle when turned around to face the Khan. My eyes met his as he sat back in his throne. My eyes once again found those of the beautiful man. He looked on with detached interest. With a wave of his hand, I was swept from the hall. Woman servants followed behind as the guards marched me through the palace. I scarcely noticed where I was taken until the men left and the woman began to undress me. When I fought against them, my hands were bound, and I was undressed regardless.  Pales of water were pored over my head and shoulders. The chill stole my breath as my body was scrubbed, and my hair washed. 

A simple tunic and trousers were thrust upon my person. When my hair was brushed and braided, I was led to a cell, and left to the thoughts that only served to remind me that I had been given to the Khan of Mongolia. 


	2. Steel Sharpens Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcella begins to learn more about the world around her.

As I sat in that cell, my anger became a raging storm. My fists as the howling wind rampaged against the pillars, my feet the waves stomping across the floor. My father left me here to rot. I was nothing more than something to barter with. Niccolo Polo was no father. As the storm began to settle, my foot came to rest on a stone that lay carelessly discarded on the ground.

When I was a child, I use to draw with rocks on the cobblestone roads of Venice. I etched in the stone places and people I had hoped to one day see. My aunt had strongly disapproved of my many drawings, and would often lecture me on the proper behavior of a Lady of my standing.

Dropping to my knees, I grasped the pale shard in my palm. Lines began to curl around the floor and a ship took root, my father's ship. For the first time in three years I wished I would have turned back with that first priest to leave for Venice. I wished my mother would have lived and raised me. Maybe then I wouldn't have longed for adventure, maybe I would have been content to settle down for an ordinary life. After all, the Polo family was esteemed nobles in Venice. it would not have been difficult to find an agreeable match. I could have been a wife and mother, and not alone in a foreign land as a Khan's prisoner. 

From my hand pored the court yard I played in as a child, the rooftops I climbed looking for the symbol of my family on a white sail returning to port. I drew the constellations I knew, Orion, Lyra,  and a figure following The Three Sisters home to a beautiful city of canals and towering structures. That was what I wanted more than anything. I wanted to go home. I wanted my father to come back and tell the Khan he had made a mistake, that he didn't want to trade me like he would a mule-

The stone fell from my white stained fingertips. Falling onto my bum, I turned my mind from that path to instead look at the many drawings that now littered the floor. There was a small comfort in the familiar images I surrounded myself with. It wasn't until sunlight warmed my face and the creak of the cell door made my eyes open that I realized I must have fallen asleep lost in what might have been. 

"Come." A guard grunted in a manner almost as cold as his hands when he hoisted me up from where I had been slumped over.

A second rigid man grabbed my other arm as they led me back out of the damp cells and into the beautiful halls of the palace that seemed somehow less inviting than when I had laid eyes upon them. If any of the many people we passed thought it was strange to see two guards half dragging an Italian woman down the corridor, they didn't let on.

It wasn't long before I was let go of with a final shove before a doorway shrouded in a rust colored fabric, slit down the middle allowing me to see into the room beyond. A tall man stood relaxed in the center of the open space. Blue robes accentuated his lethal form, and his head was bare, save for a strip of hair tied back. The man's head turned slightly, aware of my presence on the other side of the curtain. Pushing aside the fabric, I entered the square room. High windows rose along the walls and writing that I could recognize as Mongolian hung proudly on white tapestries.

The man who stood in the center of the room spoke in a soft yet firm voice that filled the room without overpowering it. "You have questions."

"Just one. Am I a privileged guest or a prisoner in this hell?" My voice was fierce in a way my father had told me I inherited from my mother.

The man chuckled. "A fiery one." He turned leisurely to face me and I noticed for the first time a sword hung at his side. "No wonder the Khan caged you for his own personal amusement."

It was only when he bit into a pear that I noted his eyes were half closed and never quite sought me out. "You're blind."

He answered in easy amusement. "Not as blind as you, girl." 

In a single moment, he tossed the fruit in the air, drew his sword, cut it twice, and swept my feet from beneath me. My lungs fought to fill themselves once more as he towered above me.

An amused smile tugged at his thin mouth as though at a personal joke. "No roots."

I stumbled to my feet as he turned from me. Swinging the sword with embellishment, he continued away from me and spoke once more. "You have spirit, Latin. Of the Yin and the Yang, you have an abundance of Yang. But without Yin, Yang dies on the battlefield." By now he was several paces away before he turned to me once more. "We are all prisoners here. Prisoners and privileged guests, one and the same." He stepped toward me once more. "If you are unable to protect yourself in the kingdom, it is I... who will be killed. Do you understand?" He stopped before me.

I nodded, opening my mouth to tell him so when he cut across me. "Good. We begin with roots."

As he turned away, my feet were swept beneath me once more. We continued in this manner until I was able to stand against his swift and unyielding assaults. The next several days bled into one another. For whatever reason, the Khan had demanded I be trained in the art of kung fu, the written Mongol language, archery, even fighting while astride a horse.

My slim arms began to strengthen and my once soft body began to grow hard. It was during these lessons that I allowed my anger and frustrations to war against my teacher, my Sifu. He took every blow, evaded my strikes, and knocked me down with ease. It was refreshing. My being a woman was never mentioned, and I was expected to do as well as any man.

"You have been conscripted into the court of Kublai Khan."

 _Slam!_ My back hit the wooden floor.

"For what? I do not know."

 _Thwack!_ A stick of bamboo slapped my ribs.

"I am Hundred Eyes. I am kept here to train the Khan's sons..."

 _Slap!_ His hand sliced across my stomach.

"His nobles..."

 _Clunk!_ My sword met his.

"His pets."

I clambered back to my feet, chest heaving.

"You shall be tutored in the Mongol ways of the horse."

Struggling to maintain control of the mare, I jerked on the reins, trying not to fall again.

"You shall be tutored in the great arts of the East by scholars and artisans loyal to Lord Kublai."

The strokes of the paintbrush were crooked beneath my hand.

"Hawking and archery."

My arm shook in effort to draw the sting of my bow.

"And in the end... you may discover the answer to your question."

 My muscles ached a familiar way. I lay on the cot provided in the corner of my cell, exhausted from the day's lessons. New and old bruises colored my skin in swirling patterns of yellow and purple. It was becoming a routine with no end in sight. Hundred eyes was a skilled teacher, but he was slowed by my lack of grace. I supposed it was lucky to be given these lessons, rather than those more befitting of a woman. 

Once more my cell was opened, and once more I was taken away. My heart puonded in my chest. In the weeks I had been here, once the sun set, I was left to my cell until the sun began to rise once more. Surely there wasn't any lesson to be taught in the dead of night? Instead of taking me down the path towards the dojo, the guards led me in a direction I had not been to since my arrival. 

The throne room doors stood daunting as the were pushed open. Kublai Khan sat upon his throne, looking down at a man on his hands and knees in front him. I walked slowly into the long room, watching as the man was dragged away, screaming and pleading. My steps faltered slightly as he passed me, eyes swimming in fear.

"A man found in possession of a stolen horse must return it to it's owner, add nine horses of the same kind." The Khan said when I stood before him. "If he is unable to pay this fine, his children must be taken instead of his horses. If he has no children, then he must be slaughtered like a sheep." Taking a piece of red fruit from a bowl in his lap, he gestured to the doors. "That man has no children."

A lump formed in my throat. _Slaughtered like a sheep_. 

"I hear from my Minister of Falconry, you have taken well to the hawks. Archery is improving, yes?"

"Yes, Great Khan." I said, keeping a tremor from my voice.

He seemed pleased. "I, myself, was always a bit clumsy with the making of chinese characters." He paused for a moment, taking in my battered form. "When you and your father crossed Central Asia, you passed through Badakhshan. Describe for me, in the way you do, how you made the passage, and what you saw."

He sat forward, watching me with interest, I couldn't put my heart in it, not for this man who would take me as his servant without a second thought. "We saw sand."

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the man whom had sat at the Khan's feet take a step forward, but stopped when the Khan held up his hand. "Rode beasts."

Displeasure distorted the Khan's features. "Do you defy me? Describe for me the land of Badakhshan."

I drew my brow together. "The footing was hard on our beasts. The sun very hot."

Anger sparked in his eyes. "Take her to the horse grounds. Stuff her mouth with the shit of pigs."

A sense of panic arose as two armed men seized my arms. "You enter a gate of made of rock east of Bukhara-

Tilting his head, Lord Kublai waved the guards away. 

I continued with the weight of both the Khan, and the striking man's gaze. "And begin to ascend into the Pamir Mountains. There are great numbers of all kinds of wild beasts. And the men of Badakhshan speak of a breed of horse which is said to be the direct offspring of Alexander's."

A moment passed before the Khan grunted. "Odd bit of trivia."

"I have always been taken with the audacity of Alexander." I stated boldly. "A great conqueror."

"There are twenty cities that bear his name, huh?" I nodded. "I now posses them all." A breathe passed in silence.

"Do you blame me for your current station in life?"

"No, sire." I said. "I simply wondered why you kept me."

"I need no reason, Latin." His voice held an unmistakable warning. "As my servant, you will accompany a tax collector as he makes his rounds. This will give you a view of my Imperial City and my subjects. You will report back to me, describe what you have seen as you saw it."

I kept my eyes downcast. 

"I'm giving you freedom." He continued. "But the walls of my kingdom stretch beyond the horizon. Do you understand?" 

My jaw tightened when I met his eye. The threat was clear. There is no place I could run that he wouldn't find me. "Yes, sire."

"I give you leave."

I turned to walk from the room but was stopped short by the reminding 'hmm' of the Khan. Turning to him once more, I bowed as I had been taught. A Satisfied twitch of his lip caught my eye before I made my exit.


End file.
